Street preacher
I saw an actual street preacher yesterday. On my way to a meeting, I saw him on a campus street corner, standing not on the proverbial soapbox but on a small step stool, the kind parents keep next to the toilet to help out their toddlers. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, carrying a slightly tattered bible, and declaiming in a loud but not obnoxious voice to passing students and commuters. I gave him wide berth, did not make eye contact, and left. I was in a hurry, as were most of the passers-by.
My meeting evaporated though. I came by again with a hot cup of coffee, some time to kill, and a bit of curiousity. I found a place to sit, suitably far away, close enough to hear what he was saying, but not so close that I might seem personally involved. You're the entertainment, was my message to him. He was probably happy to have me anyway, he had only two or three people stopping to listen.
He was preaching on vanity. Something like this, perhaps:
You get the idea. Sure, in my head I was arguing with him. I've got a piece of paper. I put a lot into getting it. And what good does it do me? Why, with that piece of paper, and 1.50 in lawful currency, I could get the cup of coffee I was holding in my hand. But he had a pleasant voice, and the issues he was discussing are sharp and real, no matter how you respond to them. Why are we here. What will happen to us when we die. What are you doing with your life. And he was keeping the tone light, approachable. He was good, I will give him that.
And then the cops showed up. Or rather, some kind of campus security. They talked with him for a long time, looked at his ID, eventually told him to take off. I liked him more after watching this, and felt compelled to greet him afterward, as did a couple of other bystanders. One seemed obviously a fellow evangelical doing some networking. Another seemed like a budding civil libertarian, speaking out against the oppression of the state, but needing to clarify his undying atheism. I just wished him luck. And I do.
My meeting evaporated though. I came by again with a hot cup of coffee, some time to kill, and a bit of curiousity. I found a place to sit, suitably far away, close enough to hear what he was saying, but not so close that I might seem personally involved. You're the entertainment, was my message to him. He was probably happy to have me anyway, he had only two or three people stopping to listen.
He was preaching on vanity. Something like this, perhaps:
This is all vanity. You study hard, you get that piece of paper, and what does it get you. When you're on your deathbed. When you're killed by a drunk driver. My uncle was killed by a drunk -- 40 years old. Matthew says, drunks will not enter the kingdom of heaven...
You get the idea. Sure, in my head I was arguing with him. I've got a piece of paper. I put a lot into getting it. And what good does it do me? Why, with that piece of paper, and 1.50 in lawful currency, I could get the cup of coffee I was holding in my hand. But he had a pleasant voice, and the issues he was discussing are sharp and real, no matter how you respond to them. Why are we here. What will happen to us when we die. What are you doing with your life. And he was keeping the tone light, approachable. He was good, I will give him that.
And then the cops showed up. Or rather, some kind of campus security. They talked with him for a long time, looked at his ID, eventually told him to take off. I liked him more after watching this, and felt compelled to greet him afterward, as did a couple of other bystanders. One seemed obviously a fellow evangelical doing some networking. Another seemed like a budding civil libertarian, speaking out against the oppression of the state, but needing to clarify his undying atheism. I just wished him luck. And I do.
posted by TFox at
1:11 PM
